


Brings Home the Heavy Days

by fadinglight (flammablelight)



Series: TCATS Universe [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Australia, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Friendship, Multi, POV Multiple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:14:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28643517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flammablelight/pseuds/fadinglight
Summary: Companion Story toThe Colour and The Shape- Draco Malfoy accompanies Hermione Granger to Australia to help retrieve her parents memories. Along the way, Draco learns more about Muggles and finds he particularly enjoys their cocktails and their tea. - Please don't read this if you've not read the first part of the story, it is far less enjoyable as a standalone in my opinion.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Original Male Character(s), Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Series: TCATS Universe [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2099217
Kudos: 6





	Brings Home the Heavy Days

**Author's Note:**

> I only finished my first fic and published it a few days ago, but I was thinking about adding in “what we didn’t see in _The Colour and The Shape_ ” stories. I wanted to start with Draco and Hermione’s trip to Australia, because I think his relationship with her was very important to [_The Colour and The Shape_](url).  
> I do not own these characters, they belong to JK Rowling. I am just letting them run wild in Bondi Beach.  
> I named Hermione’s parents because I could not find reference anywhere to them being named. Jean is Hermione’s middle name, so it seemed possible it came from her mother. Roger was just because Roger Granger sounds exactly like a middle aged dentist.  
> I’ve chosen to make Hermione a Person of Colour in my fics, it’s the way I imagined her as a young girl reading the books.  
> Title of Work and interspersed lyrics come from a song by GANGgajang – “Sounds of Then”.

_”Out on the patio we'd sit,  
And the humidity we'd breathe,  
We'd watch the lightning crack over canefields  
Laugh and think, this is Australia.”  
_  


Straight to Sydney

Hermione Granger was cold. She had known that Sydney would be an adjustment from the sticky humidity of a London summer, but standing in the Portkey Station she thought that Sydney was colder than she had expected. She shivered again, wrapping her blazer tightly across her chest. A tsk sounded beside her, heat surrounding her as Draco hit her with a Warming Charm. “Honestly, Granger, did you forget that you’re a witch during that awful experience?” Draco Malfoy flipped a lock of blonde hair out of his eyes and looked huffily at Hermione. 

Hermione sighed, Draco had been extremely polite and quiet for the last month whenever she visited Harry at Grimmauld Place. So quiet she’d forgotten to associate his pale exterior with the disdainful words that had been his only contribution to her schooling at Hogwarts. Standing in the middle of Sydney, Australia, with only Malfoy for company she chastised herself for her lapse of judgement. 

Hermione eyed her companion, when she had mentioned a few weeks ago that she was desperate to go and try to restore her parents’ memories, Ron had emotionally told her that he understood her need to be with her family but that he couldn’t leave right now. After Fred’s funeral, George had been completely unpredictable, morose and bitter one day, manic and exuberant the next. Harry and Ron had both been subdued the night they told her they just couldn’t bear to leave the Weasley family, George in particular, while she went to Australia. 

The trio had been sitting in palpable silence after the boys’ confession, when Draco had looked up from his Arithmancy textbook and said that if Hermione was amenable, he’d be happy to escort her to Australia to give the Weasleys and Harry peace of mind. The trio had all stared at Draco, sitting on a pile of cushions in the corner of the library, united in disbelief at his selfless offer. Hermione had eventually gratefully accepted, knowing it would be difficult to face ‘Monica and Wendell Wilkins’ on her own. 

A gaggle of Polynesian witches distracted Hermione from her thoughts, chattering loudly as they went through the Smuggling Inspection Point. Their deep mahogany skin and beaded necklaces attracted Draco’s attention. “I’ve never seen anyone like that before,” he sounded very unsure. Hermione cringed and waited for the hateful comment. “Their clothing is so beautiful and colourful. It’s so... captivating.” Hermione stared at him, wrinkling her nose and eyebrows. “What? Look, I know wizards in Britain wear some flamboyant colours - but look at the patterns, Granger. We don’t have anything quite as artistic as that,” Draco was standing with his arms crossed, daring Hermione to argue.

Hermione continued staring at Draco's pointed face until he became snippy again, “Oh, what?” She sighed and finally responded, “I just assumed you were going to say something about their skin colour.” Malfoy frowned, “What’s their skin colour got to do with their clothing?” Hermione rolled her eyes, “No, Malfoy, I thought you were going to say something racist, like you’d never seen someone that _dark_ before.” 

Draco’s eyebrows knit together, “I don’t get it Granger, why would someone care how dark their skin was?” Hermione let out a _ha!_ “Oh my god, you don’t even… Have you never heard of racism before, Malfoy?” Draco rolled his eyes at her, “Of course I have, Granger, but they’re in the Portkey Station, clearly they’re witches.” Hermione stopped short, nearly dropping her beaded handbag, “Hang on – seriously, Draco – do you think racism is when you divide people into Pure-Bloods, Half-Bloods, Muggle-Borns and Muggles and then judge them for it?” Draco nodded, “That is what racism is, Granger,” he frowned and looked at his shoes before mumbling, “If you recall, I was especially good at it in school.” 

Hermione was unsure how to explain, she and Draco quietly moved through the Smuggling Inspectors and exited onto a cold Sydney street. Flinging her wand arm into the street, wand discretely tucked in her sleeve, Hermione waited hopefully. Seconds later, a dusty looking orange taxi pulled up to the curb. Gesturing to Draco, they entered the back seat together, Draco looking wildly around the vehicle. 

The tan wizard driving turned to her, “Welcome to Sydney. Where to this morn’n?” Hermione smiled and leaned forward, “Could you please take us to the Wizarding Embassy in Chatswood?” He nodded, pulling into the busy traffic. Draco was still staring at the seatbelt that Hermione had fastened across him, “Why do you use Muggle vehicles?” The driver spoke up, “It’s a common question from the tourists, helps us blend better with the Muggles, mate. Plus, we can pick up Muggles too and double our dollars.” He grinned in the rear-vision mirror at Hermione and tapped his wand on the money box fixed to the dashboard, the currency changed from wizarding to colourful notes and gold and silver coins. 

Draco was looking at the money thoughtfully. “That’s awfully clever of you. I wonder that wizards in Britain don’t try to mix their income from the two economies more,” he seemed to appreciate the pragmatism of the Australian wizard. Hermione watched the wintry sun shine on Draco’s silvery hair, deciding to explain to him her earlier point. “Draco,” she began softly, “about the whole racism thing. I know for you, it is a matter of magical blood and the mixture of it with non-magical blood.” He ducked his head, blushing and looking forlorn. She continued, “But, in the Muggle world and I assume some other parts of the Wizarding World too, racism is about skin colour and ethnic heritage.” 

Draco met her cautious eyes, clearly puzzled. “But – that’s ridiculous? Blaise's family is from Africa and he's very skilled at Potions. Skin colour doesn’t affect how good your magic is.” Hermione poked him with her wand, “My blood status doesn’t affect how good _my_ magic is either.” Draco flushed again, “I know that now, Granger. I know my father and his beliefs were beyond wrong. But I can understand how he became so,” he chewed his lip again, “so misled. I mean, our ancestors were persecuted by the Muggles, so I suppose the whole blood purity thing came into existence around then.” 

Hermione fiddled with her wand, musing on how to answer him. “Yes, I can see how it would arise out of fear of non-magical people. I think it’s probably a similar story for those who get upset about skin colour and ethnicity.” Draco looked at Hermione’s hands twisting her wand, she wondered if he was looking at her caramel skin and now making the connection between her assumption about his comments in the Portkey Station. “Say, Granger, er, has anyone ever treated you poorly because you’re… a different colour than I am?” 

Hermione smiled wanly at him, “Yes, Malfoy. Dad’s white, like you are, but Mum is from Mauritius. She’s a bit darker than I am.” Draco frowned and nudged her, “I’m sorry that people treated you poorly because of where your family come from.” He sighed and looked out the window, “I’m sorry _I’ve_ treated you poorly because of your magical heritage. Thinking about hating you for where in the world your parents’ parents were born seems so ridiculous. It seems just as stupid to hate you because your parents aren’t magic.” Hermione smiled again and patted his clenched fist, “Thank you, Draco.” 

The taxi pulled in front of a nondescript looking office building, ‘Kurdaitcha Corporation’ spelt out in blocky metal letters over the entry. Hermione paid the driver and thanked him for the ride. “No worries, love, enjoy your trip. Good luck with clueless boy over there,” he jerked his head at Draco, who was gaping at the Muggles passing him on the street with obvious curiosity. Hermione smiled and waved to the wizard before grabbing Draco by the elbow. “Come on, Malfoy, we’ve an appointment.” 

  


Entering the Embassy

Draco looked around the office, drinking in the art on the walls. He’d never seen art like this before. Rich red, vibrant yellow and stark black and white dots covered the canvas. There was no discernible image the colours made up, but the way the dots grouped together seemed to be purposeful. A long, similarly painted, hollow cylinder was mounted on the wall behind the wizened man Hermione had been directed to meet by Kingsley Shacklebolt. 

“It is an absolute pleasure to meet you Ms. Granger. Your interim minister said you were one of the war heroes who has just helped save Britain, and likely the rest of the world, from the biggest threat since Grindelwald,” he began, “Did Marg offer you a cuppa? She’s a brilliant witch, bit forgetful when it comes to manners but an absolute miracle worker with my schedule.” Hermione smiled and nodded to confirm that Marg had indeed offered, “Mr. Humphris, we’re trying to track down my parents. With the central role that I performed in the war, I had to Modify their memories to keep them safe while we were handling, er, everything.” Mr. Humphris nodded, “Yes, Mr. Shacklebolt did mention that the British Ministry rather hoped we would provide you every possible assistance to track down your parents. Wilkins, wasn’t the er, alias?” 

Draco watched Hermione fidget with her dress under the desk, reaching out hesitantly he placed a hand on hers. He hoped she found the gesture comforting, he was still not sure she was entirely accepting of him. “Yes, Monica and Wendell Wilkins. I suspected that Voldemort-”, Mr. Humphris coughed at her casual dropping of You-Know-Who’s name, “would target my family to get to the three of us.” Draco was still in awe at what Hermione had put herself through to protect her parents. He knew he’d made some terrible decisions for the sake of his family, but he didn’t know if he could willingly rip memories of himself – perhaps forever – away from his parents. 

Mr. Humphris sent off a shining parrot Patronus with a message, “Mr. Leighton, your expertise, please?” He sat back in his chair, “Mr. Leighton is our Head of Intelligence. We have an excellent relationship with the national law enforcement agency; they work for the Australian Magical Parliament.” Draco watched Hermione continue to fidget nervously, he decided to step in for her, “That is excellent to hear Mr. Humphris. Minister Shacklebolt assured us you were the absolute best person to assist Ms. Granger in her search for her parents. Did you know that she has been presented with the ‘Order of Merlin, First Class’ for her actions in the War?” 

Hermione shot Draco a grateful look, she was clearly too affected by the possibility of seeing her parents to keep her manners in order. Draco inclined his head minutely to her, he didn’t mind playing the pompous rich boy to these politicians. He cast an eye back over Mr. Humphris in his pinstriped suit, appreciating the excellent tailoring. The office door opened and a tall and impressive wizard entered. While dressed in military regalia, he didn’t seem to be a politician by nature. His thick black curls were much tighter than Harry’s wild mop, his skin darker than the Polynesian witches they had seen earlier. Draco was most struck by the way the man carried himself, he moved fluidly and Draco sensed the raw magical power radiating from him. 

Draco thought back to Hermione’s earlier explanation of racism, frowning. He suspected that his man’s skin would upset some Muggles, but as a Pure-Blood wizard, Draco could only feel impressed at the distinct crackle of magic surrounding the man. Draco stood, clasping the mans’ hand, “Mr. Leighton.” Draco found himself mesmerised by Mr. Leighton’s eyes, so deep they were almost black. “Keep your heart open to the spirits,” Draco was struck cold at the unexpected statement from the Head of Intelligence. 

Mr. Humphris chuckled from behind Draco, “Mr. Leighton is an Aboriginal elder, he is in touch with the magic of his ancestors and the land, not just his own. He has knowledge from the spirits of his ancestors.” Hermione began introducing herself to Mr. Leighton, while Draco mulled over what the man had said. Mr. Leighton had simply commented to Hermione, “You have sacrificed much for the sake of your people.” He held aloft a brightly coloured yellow file and handed it to Hermione. “This is everything the Australian Government had on your parents’ entry into the country and their movements since arriving.” He nodded at Mr. Humphris before leaving the office. 

Draco handled the farewell to Mr. Humphris, Hermione was still staring at the folder in her hands. She followed him mutely back onto the pavement outside the building. Draco waited for her to tell him what they were going to do next, but she just continued to clutch the file like it was going to bite her if she opened it. He sighed and bumped her arm, “Granger.” She looked at him, as if realising for the first time that he was there. “Granger, the file, where are we going?” 

Hermione cleared her throat, “Sorry I just, I can’t believe they actually had the information all ready to go. I thought we’d be waiting weeks for them to find anything.” Draco rolled his eyes, “Granger, you do realise that everyone thinks you’re as much a war hero as Harry is right? I bet when Shacklebolt asked them to find your parents, they jumped at the chance to do a favour for _the_ Hermione Granger.” Hermione gave him a small smile but shrugged modestly. 

Draco flung his wand arm out like Hermione had done, feeling the familiar hawthorn wood brush his wrist. Another horrendously coloured taxi pulled up at the curb, a different driver this time; a small freckled witch greeted them cheerfully. “G’day darlin’, where we headed?” Draco opened the door for Hermione, before hurrying around the other side to take his seat. She had opened the file while he clicked his restraint in place and was giving the address to the witch. “510 Calga Place, Bronte.” The witch turned the wheel abruptly and pulled in front of a large blocky car, Draco suddenly understood why Muggles used the belt to keep them secure. The witch barely looked before pulling them across three lanes and called over her shoulder, “Bondi area, not a bad place to visit!”

  


Remorse and a Reunion

Hermione stood outside of the house where her parents now lived, filled with trepidation. She had altered their memories out of love, wanting to protect them and expecting it likely she’d not survive the Horcrux hunt. Hermione now felt wracked with doubts, could she even remove the fake memories she’d layered in and help bring back the ones she had hidden? She felt Ron and Harry’s absences acutely, they had always faced challenges like this together, drawing on their unique strengths to gain a favourable result. 

Draco placed a hesitant hand on her shoulder. She turned to look at him, thankful she wasn’t alone in this moment. “Granger, I should probably tell you now, I’ve been researching how to reverse Memory Modification and… well a lot of the times only the Cruciatus Curse has done it.” She blanched, how could he suggest using an Unforgivable Curse on her parents? He must have understood her reaction because he held his hands up pleadingly, “No, no, no. I meant, I really don’t want you to expect that we’re going to crack this in five minutes and trot home tomorrow.” 

Hermione was surprised; she had expected Draco to be impatient for results. Draco’s statement showed that he was genuinely ready to help for as long as it took for her to resolve her parents’ memories. Hermione gave him a soft smile, “I suspected as much. I had to ensure there was nothing that would cause them to go back Britain or go looking for me.” He nodded and held out his arm, “I do hope I’m dressed appropriately, I’ve never gone home with a girl to meet her parents before.” He gave Hermione a cheeky wink, his small attempt at humour helped ease her anxiety enough to take his arm and step through the wooden gate. 

The house was a low-set brick villa, large shrubs lining the walk. Draco was avoiding a purple flowering bush with yellow berries as Hermione prepared to knock on the door. She froze, realising that it was a Tuesday and her parents might have jobs. “Oh, what if they’re not here?” Draco scoffed, checked that there were no people around and tapped his wand to the door before muttering, “ _Homenum revelio._ ” He turned back to Hermione and held up two fingers before knocking firmly on the door. 

Hermione choked up instantly at the sight of her father when he answered the door. “Oh, hello there. How can I help you?” Draco took Hermione’s hand and pulled her closer, “Good, er, is it afternoon? Never mind. Hello sir, my name is Draco Malfoy and this is Hermione Granger. We’ve come from England to speak with you.” Mr. Wilkins, or rather, Mr. Granger, looked at them curiously. “British Ministry, I suppose?” Draco smiled, “Yes sir. We’re here on behalf of Her Majesty’s taxation office.” Hermione nodded, grateful he had listened to the cover story she had cobbled together. 

Mr. Granger opened the door wider, “Well, better come in. Must be serious if they paid for you to fly over here instead of just sending a letter.” Hermione followed Draco into the warm house, trying not to giggle at the expression Draco had made when her father said “fly over here”. She heard a familiar voice from the kitchen, her mother called out to ask who was at the door. Her dad led them into a brightly lit living room, windows looking out onto the ocean. “Monica, love, the British Ministry has sent some taxation officers to see us.” 

Hermione was still surprised at how readily her father had accepted the lie. She and Draco were very young, although both had dressed well for their trip. Draco adjusted the jacket of his grey suit and sat down at her mother’s request. Hermione sat next to him, clutching the file and her beaded handbag nervously. “So, how can we help you both today?” Hermione’s dad was staring at the file in her hands. Hermione started, realising he expected her to pull out some kind of document. 

Hermione brushed a piece of lint from her dress and began slowly, “Your names aren’t really Monica and Wendell Wilkins.” Her father raised an eyebrow, her inner child immediately cringed as if she was about to be lectured, “Miss Granger, they absolutely are. We have our identification in the office. Monica, could you go grab-”. Draco cut off her mother’s movement with a flick of his wand, warding the exits to the room with a purple glow. Mr. Granger had put himself in front of his wife to shield her from the pair. Hermione stood up, palms up in a gesture of peace. “Your names are Jean and Roger. You're my parents. Um, we don’t mean to scare you. I have proof.” Hermione hoped that her parents’ sense of logic and rationality had not been taken by the Memory Charm. 

Mr. Granger pulled his wife close and frowned at Draco, “I’d appreciate if you put that, well whatever that is, away, sir.” Draco complied immediately and leaned back into the couch. “I’ve got some pictures; can I please show you?” She rummaged through her beaded bag, before feeling the thick photo album brush against her palm. She pulled it out, her mother’s mouth falling open in an ‘O’. “Goodness, that is a very roomy bag, how does it manage it when it seems so small?” Hermione smiled and promised to show her soon, passing over the photo album to her mum. 

Hermione watched, agitated, as her parents flicked through the pages, their expressions changing from polite confusion, to astonished disbelief, to something that was both sad and joyful. Hermione’s father spoke quietly, emotion ringing through his voice, “You’re our daughter. It’s clear now when I look at you. You look just like Monica did when we were young, but you’ve got my nose.” Hermione nodded, trying to hold back tears. Her mother failed to hold in her feelings as she cried, “What happened to us?” 

Hermione asked them if they trusted her to tell them the truth, when they affirmed that they did, she told them the whole story. She started with Hogwarts and ended with her role in the war, telling them how much she loved them but it was risky for them to be in Britain. Her father had taken the story so far with nodding and thoughtful humming, but now drew up and pointed at her, “You mean to tell me that you took our memories to protect us so you could go off and fight in a WAR?” She nodded, head hung, “I’m sorry Dad, I know it wasn’t right of me to make the choice for you. But I couldn’t be sure that if I told you to leave that you would have, and-” she was cut off when he pulled her into a hug. Hermione felt her sadness and guilt overwhelm her and burst into tears. 

Her mother joined her father in holding her tightly while she sobbed, hoping they could tell how much she regretted having to make such a horrific choice. Her father pushed her back and sat her down on the chair. “So, you’re here because the war is over, then?” Hermione smiled, still wiping tears away with the handkerchief that Draco had thoughtfully passed her. “Yes, it’s over. It’s safe for you to come back.” Her mother took her hand, “And, you can put our memories back?” Hermione felt her anxiety return, looking to Draco for help. 

Draco inhaled deeply and explained to her parents that memories were easier to alter or remove than to give back, but that they were here and would try. Her father then asked for a display of their magic, curious about the extent of it. Draco asked what he’d like him to do, Mr. Granger shrugged and replied, “Whatever you think you can manage, son.” Hermione heard the doubt in her father’s voice and saw Draco’s corresponding sly smile. He flicked his wand at the coffee table, turning it into a green piglet. Both of her parents turned to each other and started to laugh and then turned back to the ‘table’ and stopped, awed. Draco waved his hand lazily and the piglet turned back into the glass table. 

Hermione stood up, “Well, this bag also has a Charm on it, it makes it really large on the inside.” She held out the back to her mother who reached in and pulled out a copy of ‘Magical Theory: Advanced Applications of Arithmancy’, two jumpers and a package of fudge. “Well, that certainly makes it easier to travel light, doesn’t it, Wendell.” Hermione shoved the items back into her bag and Draco stood beside her, holding the bag open so she could place them in more neatly. Jean eyed them with speculation. “Oh, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but is this young man your boyfriend?” 

Hermione smiled at her mum, “No Mum, Draco’s a school friend who came so I didn’t have to travel alone. My boyfriend, Ron, he’s with his family. They lost one of their sons in the war and he didn’t want to leave them right now.” Hermione’s mother looked aghast, “It was… It was so bad that their son was killed?” Draco spoke, voice shaking, “It was horrible. So many people died fighting. The man who started it – he was inhuman.” He cleared his throat and continued, “My mother and I saw the war from the enemy camp, because my father supported that evil…” Hermione watched Draco try to contain his anger and retain his polite composure, “Regardless, I don’t think Hermione made the wrong choice at all to try and keep you away from it.” 

Jean stepped forward and wrapped Draco in a tight embrace, “You’re just a boy. You never should have been forced to witness any acts of war. Your father should be jailed for subjecting you to that.” Hermione watched Draco melt into the hug, murmuring his thanks and stepping away, trying to discreetly wipe his eyes. “Well, Father died in the war too, so I’ll never get to tell him how angry I am at him.” Mr. Granger clapped a sympathetic hand on Draco’s shoulder and asked them where they were staying. Hermione and Draco exchanged a blank look, they hadn’t actually considered accommodation when they were planning their trip. 

“Um, we’ll find somewhere to stay locally while we work on reversing what I did,” Hermione found herself looking into a very unhappy face. “I don’t think so, not letting you out of our sight now that we’ve got you back. You both will stay here, with us.” Roger had his ‘no arguments’ tone and she nodded immediately. “Yes Dad.” Her mother gestured towards the hallway and proceeded to show them the spare bedroom that they would share. 

  


Revelations and Revelry

Draco laid back on his bed in the Granger’s beach villa, breathing in the cool night air. They’d been in Australia for ten days already and while the Grangers’ had readily accepted Hermione’s explanations, there had only been slow progress on restoring their memories. Draco rubbed his finger over the Galleon in his hand, waiting impatiently. Harry was supposed to be having the Weasleys over to check in with Andy and his mother today. 

Draco rolled the coin over his knuckles, not believing he was holding one of Granger’s infamous Protean Charmed objects. He felt it grow warm in his hand, Harry had sent him a message. _“ALL OK MISS YOU BOTH”_. Draco was sad that he couldn’t respond, but clutched the coin tightly, wishing the warmth of the coin was Harry in his arms. Draco rolled over to his side, huffing. It was hard to sleep alone after the last month of sharing a bed with Harry. 

It had started after his cousin Nymphadora’s shared funeral with her husband, Professor Lupin. Draco had woken in a cold sweat to Harry’s tortured screaming. He’d flung open the door to Harry’s room and had shaken him awake before pulling him to his chest in an embrace. Potter had clutched at Draco’s shirt and sobbed until he fell back asleep in Draco's arms. Draco had been exhausted by the broken sleep and had slipped back into his dreams while still holding Potter without considering the consequences. It had been an awkward morning, but Harry had knocked on his door and asked to share his bed the next night instead of heading to his own room. 

Draco sighed and looked at Hermione’s prone figure. She was more physically exhausted than Draco, pouring too much of her magic each day into removing layers of falsified memories. Their only success so far was that Hermione’s parents’ had remembered their real names, Jean and Roger Granger, and their jobs, dentists. Draco sat up and slung his legs over the edge of his bed, sleep wasn’t coming to him any time soon and he wanted to check on the progress of his potion. 

Wandering into the kitchen, he pulled the lid off the pot they had turned into a makeshift cauldron. He eyed the electric blue liquid critically, he had tried an experimental technique to turn a Memory Enhancing Potion into something to help restore the Grangers' memories. He had steeped the _Galanthus Nivalis_ in a solution of Swooping Evil venom. The venom usually erased traumatic memories; Draco was hoping that the addition to the _Galanthus Nivalis_ would lead the potion to attack the false memories as intruders. It helped that Jean and Roger were adamant that they wanted to return to Britain with their daughter; personal intent had a lot of impact upon potions which affected the mind. 

Draco cast his wand over the potion once, an orange sphere appeared, still translucent at the edges. Draco hummed approvingly, the potion would be ready in a few more days. He replaced the lid and cast a protective charm around the area so that the Grangers didn’t accidentally knock it over while cooking dinner. He had not done this with his initial potion and three days of work had been wasted when Jean got particularly boisterous while making something she had called ‘fried rice’. 

Draco wandered back into the bedroom, pausing to pull Hermione’s blanket up over her shoulder and removing the open textbook from her chest. He felt a small pang of residual guilt at his treatment of her in years gone past. She had been casting magic at a level he was sure his father could not have managed since they had been here. Draco sighed, laid back on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He was trying to not be angry at his father, not wanting to give the man any power over him in death. He had spent the day before they travelled to Australia in his solicitors’ office, signing various chunks of the Malfoy fortune over to charities to help with the War recovery. Harry had repeatedly protested at the amounts as he burnt the Malfoy crest on each scroll, until Mr. Dramworth had politely explained that even with what they were giving away, the Malfoy coffers would still supply six more generations without any income being earned. 

Draco smiled again at the thought of Harry Potter. He couldn’t believe that his boyhood nemesis had become his closest friend in the last month. Draco shivered, wishing for the warm curve of Harry’s spine to be curled against him. He remembered the night before they had left, Harry clung to Draco like he was trying to imprint himself into Draco’s skin. Draco felt his body respond to the thought of Harry’s hot breath on his neck, calloused hands drawing goose pimples as they ran over his arms. He pinched the bridge of his nose, he was annoyed that the idea of Harry touching him was so arousing. He flopped over to his other side, furiously tucking his blanket tightly around him and trying to Occlude thoughts of Harry so that he could sleep. 

* * *

Draco brought the steaming teapot over to the coffee table, glancing at Hermione who was shaking with the effort of her magic. “Granger! You need to stop, you look like you’re about to faint,” Draco pulled the wand from her hand and replaced it with a strong cup of green tea. She huffed, frustrated and stomped into the kitchen away from the group. Jean turned to Draco and placed a hand over his, “How badly is she doing, really? We don’t understand magic, but she does look tired.” Draco bit his lip, wondering how to word it so they would understand. 

He thought about the previous evening, when they had sat down in front of the telly-vision and watched a man detail his struggles while surviving alone in a jungle. Draco looked at their concerned faces and felt a flush of affection for Hermione’s clearly loving parents, “Hermione’s will to help you will surpass her magical drain, for now, but she might eventually go too far and end up needing to recover without magic for a long time.” Jean looked up at Hermione when she re-entered the room, “Is there anything that we can do to help?” 

Hermione shook her head and Draco frowned, “No, not really. I’m sorry. But the potion should be ready tomorrow and it will hopefully make it easier going.” Jean turned to her daughter, “That’s enough for today.” Hermione began to protest but Draco cut her off, “No, seriously Granger, she’s right. If you go too far, we’ll have to spend months waiting for you to recover your magic to keep trying. No one else is able to return the memories as effectively as the person who took them away.” 

Jean clapped her hands, “Right, it’s decided. Why don’t you two head out tonight, experience the nightlife and relax!” Hermione smirked at Draco, “Well, Malfoy. What do you say? Care to slum it with me at a Muggle pub?” Draco sniffed and put on his haughtiest air, “I will have you know, Granger, that I enjoy a lot of Muggle things now. I like green tea, the telly-vision, Muggle clothing… Er, and your mum is teaching me to cook.” Hermione and Jean laughed, Draco rolled his eyes knowing they were thinking that it was not so much cooking, as preparing tea and making sandwiches. He huffed and Roger clapped him on the shoulder, “And young Draco here learnt to mow the lawn yesterday while you were resting Hermione, he did very well and only ran over one bush.” Hermione and her mother laughed harder and Draco frowned at them, he was very proud of his achievement. 

***

Draco stepped into the dimly lit pub, following Hermione carefully. He took in the low chatter and lively music, a band were up on a dais in the corner, playing a melody that was unfamiliar but intriguing. Hermione nodded towards the bar, he cut a path ahead of her between the patrons. He looked at the wall behind the bar, hundreds of different bottles sat on glass shelves and were backlit by soft green lighting. “What an odd place, there’s no Firewhiskey at all, Granger,” Draco murmured in her ear.

Hermione laughed, “It’s fine, Draco, we’ll find you something you’ll like.” Draco privately thought that he wouldn’t like any of their Muggle alcohols, surely nothing could be as tasty as Ogden’s Finest. Hermione caught the bartenders eye and asked for two mo-hee-toes. Draco frowned, wondering what on Earth a mo-hee-toe was. He was about to ask Hermione when she handed him a clear drink with leaves and lime slices in it.

Draco followed her over to a table, between a group of giggly women and middle aged men in suits. “Granger, is this a Fire Breathing Potion?” Draco nodded to his glass. Hermione looked at him with confusion before answering, “Oh, because of the mint? No, it’s a mojito. It’s a rum drink with mint and lime. I think you’ll like it, it’s quite refreshing.” Draco took a sip, savouring the tang of the lime. It was quite sweet and he immediately grinned at Hermione. “It’s really good, Muggles invented this?” Hermione raised an eyebrow and nodded. “Rather genius if you ask me,” Draco took another sip of his mojito.

Draco and Hermione chatted about school subjects and their teachers while they enjoyed their drinks. Draco finished up and looked to Hermione and shook his glass, “Can I get you another, Granger?” Hermione handed him a bright red, oddly feeling parchment with a number 20 on it. “Yes please, although this time I think we should try a cosmopolitan.” Draco thought that sounded like a good drink for himself, very sophisticated. He made his way over to the bar, which was now crowded by people. “You might have to wait a bit for a drink mate, the crickets just finished up.”

Draco turned to the tanned stranger beside him, he was young, probably just older than Draco. Draco sucked in a nervous breath, the man was gorgeous; thick brown wavy hair and deep blue eyes twinkling at him. “I don’t know what you mean by ‘crickets being finished’, but it seems terrible service not to have enough staff working to handle whatever that is,” Draco drawled, trying to hold on to an unaffected air. “Aren’t you British, mate? I thought cricket was your thing over there,” the man leaned in, placing his elbow on the bar and cocking a hip towards Draco.

Draco shrugged, “Perhaps for some people. I’ve certainly never been involved in it.” He still had no idea what a cricket was, but liked the stranger talking to him and wanted to continue. The man laughed, “Fair enough. Name's Jacob, you are?" Draco extended his hand, as far as he could extend it in the small space between their chests, "Draco." Jacob took his hand, "What are you doing here in Bondi then?" Draco bit his bottom lip and wondered how to explain it, "Er, my friend is in Australia to take her parents back to Britain. They er, came over here while she was at school. What about you?" Draco thought deflecting would work best to keep Jacob from asking more questions. "I'm here to surf, came down from Newcastle with some mates," Jacob smiled at him. Draco wondered what a surfer was and was about to ask but was interrupted as the bar staff greeted them and asked them what they wanted. "I'll have another rum and coke and Draco here will have...?" Jacob turned to smile at him again. "Er, two cosmopolitans please?" Draco hoped he had remembered what drink Hermione had asked him for.

Jacob paid the bar man, "So who is the lucky other person whose drink I just bought?" Draco nodded back to where Hermione was watching them curiously. "I'm here with my friend Hermione. She's a school friend, er, dating another school friend. He's back in London dealing with some family stuff." Draco wasn't sure why he felt so desperate for Jacob to know she wasn't here _with him_. Jacob thanked the barman for the drinks and turned back to Draco. "Well, if you're not spoken for...?" Draco's brows met in a confused expression, "Spoken for?" Jacob laughed, "You're new to this. Here's your drinks," he handed Draco the two pinkish-red drinks, "And here is my reward..." He leaned in close and kissed Draco gently. Draco froze, clutching the two cosmopolitans in his hand as if they would save him. Draco opened his mouth to gasp in air and Jacob sucked Draco's bottom lip into his mouth, before releasing it to run his tongue over the slightly swollen lip and pulled back. "Have yourself a good night Draco, maybe we'll meet again?" Draco moved mechanically back to Hermione, thrusting out her drink before half collapsing on his stool. Hermione smirked into her drink, "Told you we'd find you something you'll like." Draco squeaked and promptly downed his drink. 

  


Foes Forgotten, Friends Found

Hermione flopped onto her bed, grinning at Draco who was slumped against the wall on the opposite bed. He still looked shocked from his impromptu kiss with the cute boy at the bar. "Hermione," she turned to look at Draco who was staring at her with wide eyes, "What is a surfer?" Hermione sat up and leaned against her pillows to talk to him, "Surfing is a sport where you ride these flat boards over waves in the ocean. A surfer is someone who does that." Draco looked impressed, "Really, they ride the ocean?" Hermione smiled and nodded. "The um... the man who kissed me said he was a surfer." Draco was flushed pink and looked ashamed at his words. Hermione rolled onto her side, propping her head up on the pillow and frowning, "Draco, you know there's nothing wrong if you liked it right? It's okay to like boys or girls or both." Draco laid down on his side, propping his pointed chin on his hand and leaning on his elbow.

Hermione thought he needed more reassurance, "Really Draco, it's fine. Charlie Weasley, Ron's brother who works with the dragons? He's gay. He's dating a man from his work." Draco looked at her hopefully, "So, you don't think anyone, say, Potter, would mind if I liked boys?" Hermione tried not to show her reaction on her face, she'd already noticed how close Harry had become with Malfoy. "I really don't think he'll mind at all, Draco." Draco nodded and laid down properly, tucking his hand under his pillow, "How did you know you liked Ron, as more than your friend?" Hermione twisted a corkscrew of hair between her fingers and thought about it. "I suppose, it came on slowly. Harry was always doing the whole, save the world thing, we usually ended up on our own. It wasn't really til fourth year that I realised how cute I thought he was," Hermione blushed and continued, "but he was so clueless about the Yule Ball and didn't ask me. Then he got mad about me going with Viktor Krum and I thought he might like me too." Malfoy smiled shyly, "Viktor Krum is ridiculously good looking, don't you think? I was a bit jealous of you then, although I guess I didn't really understand it until now."

Hermione went on, "So, then after fourth year he and I started getting closer again, but he dated Lavender in sixth year and it really bothered me. He didn't seem to get why, clueless idiot." She smiled fondly, "It wasn't really until he accused Harry of being in love with me when we were hunting Horcruxes last year that I was sure that he cared about me too. We kissed during the Battle and we've been together since." Draco nodded, "But how did you know that you loved him?" Hermione thought about everything they had gone through together, "It was after all the funerals, do you remember the day we went to Shell Cottage?" Draco confirmed that he did. "We were cuddled up in the grass behind the house and Ron told me that he didn't want me to go back to Hogwarts alone to finish our last year. He had been talking to George about skipping school and just working for Wheezes right away, so I asked him why, and he said that nothing was as good as when we were just _being_ , just sitting together, peacefully." Draco nodded, "Rather good sentiment from him."

She twisted her hair again, "You know, I think Harry wants to go back for our last year, because you said you wanted to finish your N.E.W.T.s." Draco rolled onto his back and his cheeks coloured again, "Probably just doesn't want to miss out on sleep while I'm g-". Draco sat bolt upright, looking at Hermione with a horrified expression, "I mean, he er, I..." Hermione smiled at him, "Draco, Harry already told Ron and I that you share a bed every night. He said the nightmares weren't as bad when you're with him. It's fine." He still looked pale but lay back down on the bed, "I miss him. I miss our family. Even the Weasleys." She agreed with him, yawning loudly. "Goodnight, Draco." "Goodnight, Hermione."

***

Hermione woke up late the next day, stretching and feeling well rested after days of waking up feeling drained. She heard Draco groan from the bed beside her, "Granger, what the hell was in the drinks you ordered? I feel awful. Please tell me we have a bezoar because I think I'm dying." Hermione scoffed and pulled him out of bed, "Come on, we'll see what mum can do." Hermione led Draco into the kitchen, wishing her father good morning as she wandered past. "Mum, Draco is feeling a bit poorly after a mojito and a cosmopolitan at the pub, do we have anything for headaches?" Jean chuckled and pulled open a cabinet above the oven and pulled out a few containers. She set a glass of orange fizzing liquid and a few pills in front of Draco, who Roger had sat at the dining room table. "Um, I don't mean to be ignorant, but what are those?" Jean smiled and passed Draco a plate of eggs and bacon, "Berocca and Panadol. It will help you stop feeling rotten. Eat the food too." Hermione sat beside Draco with her own breakfast and nudged him, "Seriously, trust her. Mum knows what she's talking about."

Breakfast passed with careful conversation about their previous night, Hermione glossed over Draco's kiss and only mentioned that he'd met someone interesting at the pub. Jean smiled at Draco and asked him, "She was pretty, was she?" Draco flushed and stared at his plate. Hermione was about to comfort him when Roger cleared his throat, "Was he good looking? Better be, you don't want to be going after an ugly fellow, Draco." Hermione swelled with pride at her father's cleverness and kindness. Draco nodded, shrinking into his seat and mumbling at his plate. Jean patted his shoulder, "Draco, Roger and I don't care about your sexuality. We care if you're a kind, decent young man who treats our daughter with respect. You do, so we like you." Draco looked like he was about to cry, so Hermione asked him loudly if the potion was ready.

Draco gratefully hurried over to the stove, removing the protective charms and cast a diagnostic spell over the potion. A solid orange sphere appeared immediately and Hermione's throat tightened. Draco turned to her, "It's ready. We can use it today." Hermione cleared her throat and roughly told her parents that they were going to have the best chance at restoring their memories if she and Draco administered the potion after breakfast and Hermione tried to break the charm an hour later. Roger gave her a loving smile and told her to eat her breakfast so she had the strength. Hermione scarfed down her food in a manner that would have made Ron proud.

***

Hermione had fidgeted and paced so much while waiting for an hour to pass after Draco had given her parents the potion that he threatened to cast a Body Bind on her. She knew he was just making a joke to cover his own anxiety about the effectiveness of the potion, but she glowered at him all the same. Finally, Draco's wand gave a soft chime, indicating the hour was up. He sat up and turned to Hermione, "Look, this is our best shot and if you're willing to, I can lend you some of my magic to make your attempt stronger." Hermione gasped, sharing magic was a deeply intimate act, only occurring between true friends and lovers. "Draco..." He interrupted her with a raised hand, "Hermione, I can't undo all the bad I have ever done. All I can do is be better moving forward. I trust you with my magic. Please accept it." She bit her lip and nodded, Draco placed his wand on the floor and placed his hand in hers, " _Excessit vitae_ ". Hermione immediately felt a cool flow of magic under her hand, Draco's magic felt like running water. She drew some of it into herself, feeling her magic bolstered and began to cast.

Hermione waved complicated patterns over her parents, chanting quickly and pulling more of Draco's power through their link. Hermione watched her father blink furiously and gape at her with wonder. She dropped Draco's hand and her wand and gripped Roger's shoulders. "Dad, tell me, what do you remember?" Her father drew her into his arms, Hermione felt her mother wrap an arm around her also. "I remember everything, my love. I remember it all. You're my baby girl. I love you," Roger was weeping and clutching Hermione close. Jean sniffled and tucked her head against Hermione's, "You were a horrendous child, my darling, always into books that were too mature for you. You're so clever, you've brought us back." Hermione drew back, turning to smile at Draco, her joy turning to fear when she saw him slumped pale against the back of the couch. "Draco? Draco, are you alright?"

Draco opened his eyes and looked at her wearily, "I'm fine Granger, just tired. You pulled as much of my magic through as you were using to cast. I can't believe you're not feeling as bad as I am." Hermione hugged him tightly, "Thank you. I could not have done this without you. Harry and Ron would have leant me magic but I think the potion made all the difference." She felt him return her hug slowly, "Thank you for trusting me to help, Granger. It really does mean a lot." Hermione pulled away and grinned at him, before turning back to her parents, "Why don't we enjoy the rest of the day at the beach, and we can talk about going home tomorrow?" Jean and Roger agreed and set about packing a picnic lunch. Hermione went into their room and brought Draco back a Pepper Up Potion from her handbag, "Here, I've been draining my magic for days, so I've gotten used to it, but this helped me at the start." Draco took it, swallowing gratefully and looked much livelier when the potion took effect a few minutes later.

***

Hermione clutched her mother's hand as walked through Heathrow Airport, Draco following beside Roger and chatting animatedly to him about the aeroplane they'd just arrived on. Kingsley had pulled his ministerial strings and arranged for a private flight with the Muggle Prime Minister, so that Hermione and Draco wouldn't have to deal with passport control at the Sydney Airport. Hermione had simply shot a gentle Confundus Charm at the border control officer who'd met them at the plane before they left and he'd wandered off in search of a good cup of tea. 

A well presented man in a chauffeurs uniform held up a sign which read 'Granger Family' at the exit to the building. They followed him to a large black town car with ministry insignia on the flags, he advised that he was going drive them back to Grimmauld Place. Hermione explained to her parents that Kingsley Shacklebolt, the interim Minister of Magic, had arranged all the transport for them.

Hermione watched as Draco went from relaxedly talking to Roger and Jean to nervously withdrawing as they got closer. Hermione patted his arm comfortingly, resuming her discussion with her mum and dad about their plans to buy a flat in London. Jean was asking if they could have a Floo installed so that Hermione could easily come and visit when the car stopped, the driver opening the door and offering to help with their luggage. Draco took his trunk from the driver, thanking him quietly and handing him a generous tip. Hermione asked her parents if they could see Number Twelve. Jean and Roger nodded, staring up at the large townhouse. Hermione strode up the stairs, preparing to knock when the door was flung open by Molly Weasley, who promptly drew Hermione into a long hug.

"Come in, come in, welcome home Hermione and you too Draco." The group crowded into the hall before following Molly into the kitchen downstairs. Molly waved her wand at Draco's trunk and the Grangers' suitcases, directing them upstairs. "Well, Andromeda and Narcissa are going to share Andromeda's room for a few days, so we've given your parents Narcissa's room, dear. Draco, your mum and aunt are at St. Mungo's, darling Teddy has come down with a nasty cough so they've taken him to be seen by a Healer. The rest are at work, the boys have been at Wheezes since early this morning." 

Molly bustled about the kitchen, flicking her wand at the kettle and calling for Kreacher to help with some food. "Mistress Weasley called for Kreacher? Kreacher is being shocked at Muggles in the House of the Black Family, Kreacher is glad Mistress Black is being dead and not seeing such a sight in her kitchen." Molly sternly addressed Kreacher, "Bring some cake and biscuits, and stop with the attitude. Harry told you that Hermione's parents were coming to stay and you will treat them as well as you treat Narcissa and Andromeda." Kreacher snapped his fingers and a spread of treats appeared on the table, before Kreacher exited mumbling to himself and skirting around her mum and dad as if they were dangerous.

Jean looked at Hermione with a completely stunned expression, "What was that, um, what is Kreacher?" Draco held out a chair for Jean and then another for Roger. "A House-Elf, Mrs. Granger. They are servants of a family and live to serve the occupants of their house." Roger sat beside his wife and queried Hermione, who sat opposite, "Aren't they those creatures you were campaigning about a while go? Something about equal rights?" Hermione nodded and swallowed her mouthful of tea, "Yeah, Dad. But I've been living with Kreacher for a month and well, I think some of them don't want to do anything but serve. There's still Elves who want freedom though, so once I graduate I'll keep working to help them." Molly and Draco quietly sipped their tea and exchanged a look, Hermione knew they disagreed with her stance on House-Elves but they were too polite to do so in company. 

Roger asked if they could go upstairs and see their room, they were feeling rather jet-lagged. Hermione led her parents upstairs, kissing their cheeks and hugging them before heading back downstairs to Draco and Molly. She found them chatting quietly about George. "How is he?" Hermione was anxious for news on the family. Molly smiled weakly, "He's better. He was actually annoyed at you, last night. He said he couldn't believe you'd dragged his potions expert half way around the world and left him with two hopeless buffoons. Harry and Ron were quick to pelt George with sprouts in punishment for his rather unkind description of them."

Hermione and Draco stayed chatting to Mrs. Weasley for another hour before the Floo turned green and three excited shapes rushed out of it. Ron immediately crushed Hermione in a hug, before kissing her in front of the rest of the kitchen. Hermione blushed but was pleased at his excitement at her being home. "How's your mum and dad, 'Mione? Are they alright? Ferret helped you sort them out right?" Ron had one arm slung around her shoulders and was reaching for the last chocolate cupcake when Draco snatched it out of his reach. "Yes, Weasel, I helped. Aren't you glad someone _capable_ escorted Granger to Australia?" 

Hermione looked between them, hoping it didn't turn into a fight. Ron glared at Draco before grinning at him, "Glad you're back, mate. George hasn't shut up about you leaving for the last three weeks." Draco smiled back, handing Ron the cake, "Ah, yes. George, I take it I'm needed all day tomorrow at Wheezes then?" George had sat down beside Draco, clapping him on the shoulder, "Never thought I'd say this to a Malfoy, but please don't ever leave me with these people again. Harry tried to help with the new personal comfort line we were working on and ended up creating a potion that gives you hives whenever someone says something nice to you." Harry flushed from his hovering position beside the Floo, "I mixed up hellebore and scurvy grass, could've happened to anybody." 

Draco smiled shyly at Harry, "Could only happen to you, Potter." Harry finally came to stand beside Draco's shoulder, brushing the back of his hand over Draco's arm. "Hey. Er, I'm glad everything worked out with your parents, 'Mione." Hermione nodded, drowsily resting her head on Ron's shoulder. She felt like she could do with a weeks worth of sleep. Molly immediately stood up and shooed George into the Floo, "I'll be right behind you dear. Ron, you'll make sure Hermione gets to The Burrow for dinner tomorrow night?" Ron confirmed that he would, Draco and Harry farewelling Mrs. Weasley, before leading her up the stairs to the attic. "C'mon love, Harry's sharing with Draco tonight, we'll be in his room," Ron kept an arm wrapped around her waist, Hermione snuggled into his warm body.

Hermione yawned again and dropped her handbag onto Harry's floor with a loud thunk. She turned to Draco, who was hovering in the doorway, seemingly reluctant to leave her after they'd been together for weeks. She threw her arms around him and squeezed him tight, "Thank you again for helping me. I'm so glad you're our friend now." He coughed, ears bright pink, but looked pleased at her statement, "It was nothing, Granger. Better go crawl into that bed, you look like you're about to fall asleep standing here." Hermione laughed and smacked him on the shoulder, "Shut up, Malfoy. I'll see you tomorrow, g'night Harry." Ron shut the door and pulled her into a deep kiss again. She smiled at him, "I'm so glad I'm _home_ , with you."

  
_To lie in sweat, on familiar sheets,  
In brick veneer on financed beds.  
In a room of silent hardiflex  
That certain texture, that certain smell,  
Brings forth the heavy days,  
Brings forth the night time sweat._

**Author's Note:**

> I know there wasn't a lot of Drarry in this, but I think it's clear that Draco is already aware of how he feels. Thanks for reading. I think next will be a collection of "moments" over the year of _The Colour and The Shape_ with bits and pieces from the various couples.


End file.
